Roots
by MixedBreedMaiya
Summary: After landing herself in hot water, the rebellious daughter of Voyager's former commanders rails against her parents' decision to send her to the Academy - but with a little help from an omnipotent cousin, she finds herself learning more about Voyager and its crew than she ever wanted to. And maybe, just maybe, a few rifts will close by the time she's finished.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Welcome to my latest chaptered Voyager fanfic. This is a bit of my own headcanon surrounding the daughter of J/C, my own original character. She's been around since I was about ten years old, and I'm finally bringing her out into the public eye - with a little help from an omnipotent being. Hopefully you'll enjoy this prologue and stick around to see what's next!

* * *

Starfleet Academy. Just two simple words, no big deal. Half the young adult population of the Federation called it home. It was a fixture on Earth, nothing special. And yet with just those two little words, her life as she knew it was officially...over.

 _"What the hell were you thinking?"_

 _"Don't you take that tone with me."_

 _"This has gone on long enough."_

 _"Take a good look, young lady, because come the start of term, this is your new home. Welcome to the Academy, Cadet Janeway."_

Savagely, she shook her head to banish the words that echoed in her ears. She was still reeling from the horrific death sentence doled out by Starfleet's finest, and as she stared into the surface of this man-made pond, she glowered at the face staring back at her. Adding insult to injury. Despite her adamant insistence at every turn that she looked nothing like her mother, even she couldn't deny that reflection, and looking at it now, after the lecture she had received and the impending punishment that came with it, made her all the angrier. She was seething. It was probably good she was alone.

Until she wasn't.

"...Maiya."

At the sound of her father's soft voice, Maiya lifted her head, though she didn't turn around to face him. Instead, she let strands of black hair fall over her narrowed blue-grey eyes, and her hands fisted in the grass. Not even the sound of his footsteps or the feeling of him lowering himself a little stiffly to sit beside her could draw her gaze.

"I don't want to talk," she told him curtly. "Not right now."

"Tough, because I do."

Maiya snorted. "Sure. I seem to have no choice a lot these days, so why break from tradition?" Sarcasm rang unchecked through her voice, and despite her typical respect for him, she wasn't sorry.

"You're in this mess because you made a choice – a bad one. From where I stand, your right to decide anything is in serious jeopardy. The way I see it, you're lucky not to be incarcerated right now."

Here, she did turn her head slowly to take in the weathered, tattooed face looking back at her. She found none of the sympathy or camaraderie she expected, and it was a chilling sight. He was the one hope she had had for a stay of execution. Now it looked like he had defected, his gaze sober and unyielding. "...I must be imagining things, because it sounds an awful lot like you _agree_ with her."

Her father shook his head. "I'm not bailing you out of this one," he told her. "And yes, I agree with her. As a matter of fact, I was the one who suggested it in the first place."

Maiya felt the blood drain from her face, and the expression she wore was scandalized as she shifted to face him in disbelief. "You? _You_? You, who left Starfleet, _twice_ , are the reason I'm about to be walking around in a hideous grey jumpsuit, saying yes ma'am, yes sir to uptight protocol-obsessed bureaucratic automatons?"

"Yes," he stated quite plainly, not rising to the bait. "Maiya, you went too far this time. Stealing a shuttle was bad enough, but you could have killed someone in that crash, including yourself. This isn't a game anymore, and if sending you to the Academy is what it takes for you to learn that lesson, then so be it."

She turned her face away sharply with a harsh laugh. "Now you sound just like her."

Chakotay shook his head. "Maybe so. Look, whatever problems you have with her, she's still your mother and she still wants what's best for you. We both do."

"The admiral," she retorted with a bite, "wants what's best for her precious Starfleet. Don't kid yourself."

"If that were true," he countered dryly, "she wouldn't be sending you." She shot him a _look_ , but he ignored it. Maiya-"

"Thanks for the pep talk, Dad. I feel oh-so-much better." Restlessly, she pushed to her feet. He followed her up, though, and came around to face her again. With one hand, he reached out and took her chin.

"I know this seems unfair, and I know there's a rift between the two of you, but you can't keep going on like this."

"Don't tell me; tell her."

"She's not nineteen years old."

"So that automatically makes her right?" she asked incredulously. Again he shook his head.

"I didn't say that," he assured her, "but she's also not the one who barely escaped a one-way ticket to a penal colony today." Maiya scoffed, but he continued. "She _cares_ about you, and I know you've never been able to see past what happened, but someday you have got to accept that there's more to it than-"

"Enough."

Maiya pulled herself away from his grasp and took a step backward. She brusquely gathered her hair over one shoulder, revealing part of her own tattoo on the back of her neck, before folding her arms over her chest and casting her eyes downward. Her pulse had quickened, and every muscle felt tight. She didn't want to have this conversation. She wasn't _willing_ to have this conversation. Not again; not now. Kathryn Janeway was not her favorite topic of discussion at the best of times, and she certainly wasn't interested in going there today.

"I'd really rather be alone, if it's all the same to you," she stated after a moment without looking up. "I'm about to be inundated with people telling me what to think and how to think it. I don't need to start early."

"Maiya," he tried wearily.

"I'll see you later. Give the admiral my warmest regards, won't you? Be sure to thank her for this wonderful opportunity. Oh, and thank _you_ very much, too."

"Maiya!"

But she had already turned and begun to walk, leaving behind her father and his ill-fated attempts at diplomacy. Sometimes she felt bad that he was in the middle of she and her mother, but after learning of his involvement in the debacle earlier, sympathy was in short supply even for a daddy's girl like her. So she stalked through the perfectly manicured park, not even knowing, or caring, where she was going. A hundred thoughts were running through her mind, most of which surrounded how she might escape her fate.

Her first thought was to find Miral, but she quickly dismissed that. While she was her closest friend and they had grown up together, _Cadet Paris_ was on the cusp of graduating from the Academy herself. There would definitely be no safe haven there. There was her favorite fictive kinsman, Uncle Tom, but she somehow doubted he held enough influence to sway anyone's mind, let alone her own parents'. Under her breath, Maiya uttered a colorful Klingon curse as she paused in the middle of the path to rub at her face. Really, she could have used a punching bag right about then.

"Well well, someone's got a mouth. That's not very ladylike, you know."

Maiya jumped at the voice and whirled with a scathing reply on her lips for this latest intrusion on her much-sought solitude. The words died, though, and irritation turned to puzzlement as she blinked around. No one was there, and tension settled across her shoulders. Surely she wasn't hearing things now. That would be just her luck. Though it might get her a medical reprieve from the twenty-fourth century equivalent to military school.

"Up here, cuz'."

This time the voice came from beside her, and she turned to find a gnarled, old tree – and a young man sitting up in it, peering down at her in amusement. He looked just a little older than her, with a mop of curly brown hair on his head. Most importantly, she was fairly certain she'd never seen him before.

"Can I help you?" she asked impatiently.

"Nope." Nimbly, the man dropped from his perch into a crouch. He smirked up at her and rose to his full lanky height. "But I'll bet I can help you."

"I beg your pardon?" Ugh. A wannabe playboy, she thought, her expression clearly displaying the sentiment regardless.

"No need to beg, cousin. I don't mind a bit."

Cousin? That was a novel approach. And frankly, a little creepy. "Who are you, and why are you calling me 'cousin'?"

"Well, we might not be related by blood, but any kid of Aunt Kathy's is family of mine." Folding his arms, he leaned back against the trunk of the tree and crossed one ankle over the other.

"'Aunt Kathy'?" Wishing more than ever for a phaser (or a sturdy bat'leth), Maiya shifted a little and regarded the stranger through narrowed eyes. She knew her real cousins, Aunt Phoebe's kids, called her mother "Aunt Kathryn." In fact, nobody she knew ever called the woman "Kathy," not even as a pet name or a joke. But still, there was an oddly familiar note in it, like it came from a...story.

A story from when she was younger and the name, _Voyager_ , didn't make her want to punch someone in the face. A story about a troublesome teenager with unlimited power over space, matter, and time.

A story about...

"Q," she concluded after a long stretch of silence. Standing in front of her, that stupid grin on his face, was the next generation of chronic thorns in the side of humanity. Q.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! Thanks for continuing to read. I hope you enjoy this second installment!

* * *

Slowly, feeling the realization trickle down over her, Maiya brought her hands up to her face and groaned inwardly. Could this day _possibly_ get more ludicrous?

The youngest denizen of the Continuum had had one eyebrow cocked, but as soon as her expression began to shift, he had begun to grin. "So you _do_ remember me," he gushed. "And here I thought your mom and dad had gone and forgotten all those stories about me and dear old dad. I bet they had some doozies. That's a word, right?"

"I'm in hell," Maiya announced to the sky after dropping her hands. "That's it, isn't it? I died in that shuttle crash after all, and now I'm in hell. Everything makes so much sense now."

"Ah, come on." The young man came forward and slung an arm around her shoulders. She shoved him off, though, and glowered. "Now that's a face. You know, you really are the spitting image of mommy, just like everyone says."

Finally, she held up a hand to cut him off. "Look," she said in a tone quite flat and unamused, "I'm having a _really_ bad day, and if those stories you mentioned are any indication, I somehow doubt you're here to make it better. So if we could just skip the practical joke, or life lesson, or whatever it is you've come to dump on me, I would really appreciate it. Okay? Nice meeting you."

With a sarcastic smile, she stepped around him and started to walk again. Unfortunately, it seemed her request had fallen on deaf omnipotent ears, and he quickly fell into step at her side. "Mommy's temper, too," he mused.

"Don't you have a planet to knock out of orbit, or a war to start? I seem to recall you like doing that."

Q linked his hands behind his head with a wistful sort of chuckle. "Ahh, the mischief of my impulsive, yet endearing, younger self." She snorted in response, and he held up a finger. "To be fair, I was only acting out because of the enormous amount of pressure from the Continuum and my own father."

Maiya gave him a sideways look that very plainly suffered none of his excuse, but he met it with another lifted brow and a cheeky, lofty, "Maybe that's something we have in common."

"What? Being 'impulsive yet endearing'?" she grunted, turning her eyes forward again.

"Being under inordinate pressure to live up to a weighty legacy."

Here she laughed harshly. "And here I thought you people knew everything. You may be omnipotent, but you clearly lack omniscience if you think I'm trying to live up to anyone's legacy."

"Ahh, denial. That's a fun human trait, isn't it? When there's something staring you right in the face but because you find it unpleasant, you're able to actually convince yourself it doesn't exist."

She stopped walking again and turned to face him. If he'd been anyone else, she might have decked him just for the hell of it. As it was, she folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. "What do you _want_ , Q?" she demanded in an attempt to end the game he was trying to play.

"Who says I have to want something?" he laughed.

"Every story about every encounter from every person _ever_ ," was the response she gave without missing a beat. However, despite her clear dislike and irritation, it was plain on his face that he was enjoying the little sparring match.

"Fair enough. But lucky for you, I come with an offer, not a request."

"Not interested."

"You haven't even heard what it is yet!"

Maiya snorted. "Yeah, don't need to. Everyone seems to have decided they know what's best for me. My parents, the Federation, and now the Q. If it's all the same to you, I'd really rather make my own way with what little freedom I'm going to have left."

"Boy, you are an angry one. This is gonna be tough."

Here she turned her head in another sidelong stare. "...What's going to be 'tough'?"

He smiled and leaned toward her a little bit to drop his voice and confide, "The life lesson."

And there it was. Maiya pinched the bridge of her nose and released a terse sigh through it. She really didn't understand what she had ever done to deserve this day. From start to finish. And now, she was at the mercy of a being reputed to act first and think later. She was probably lucky she hadn't already been whisked off to heaven only knew where. Though really, how long would that last?

"And what lesson," she asked testily, "might that be?"

"Oh, cousin. If I gave you all the answers, you wouldn't really learn anything at all, now would you?" His eyes half-lidded with mirth, he lifted one hand a bit and poised as if to snap his fingers. "Suffice to say...I think you could use a little _space_. You know. To clear your head."

She looked up again, feeling every line of her body go taut. She had heard enough of those damned stories to know something was about to happen. It seemed her luck had just run out.

"Whoa, hey, what are you doing?"

He leaned forward slightly. "Giving you an all-expense-paid trip to remember." He winked, and she tried to step back, get away—but it was too late.

 _Snap._

In a flash, the world around her vanished. She felt an odd sort of floating sensation, and then falling into blackness. Finally, with a jolt, her mind seemed to drop back into her body. She staggered and caught herself against the nearest surface with another Klingon swear. But while it took her a moment, she finally registered what it was she was leaning against. That wasn't a tree. That was a wall.

The wall of a corridor. A very grey, very familiar corridor.

Her expression a mixture of rage and dismay, she straightened up and twisted around to find Q. Unfortunately, it appeared she was very much alone in this corridor. Maiya leaned this way, then that; turned in a circle, all to no avail. And worst of all, when she looked down at herself after feeling the tug of restrictive clothing, she was wearing the uniform of a period science officer, the style she had seen in holoablums of her parents and the _Voyager_ crew.

"Really?" she asked the air, looking up at the ceiling. "This was your big plan? I've been on _Voyager_ before, genius. I practically grew up here. Exactly what is a museum trip supposed to accomplish?" Silence met her query, and she threw up her hands. "Come on! I know you can hear me!"

The muted pad of approaching footsteps had her turn around again toward them. She opened her mouth to demand more answers, but when the source of the sound rounded the curve, the young woman stopped and took a step back. Walking toward her was a man, but it certainly wasn't Q. His hair was a dirty blonde, for one thing. For another, he was also wearing a uniform.

So a museum worker then.

Maiya rolled her eyes, but with a sigh, she trotted to catch up with the stranger after he'd passed with a cordial nod. If there was some sort of reenactment happening here, she needed to get out, and promptly. To hell with Q and his "trips to remember."

"Excuse me." She reached out and tapped his shoulder. When he stopped and blinked at her, she smiled a little lopsidedly. "Yeah, hi. Could you tell me which deck this is, please? I'm trying to get out."

She watched a bit of confusion cross his face, and he glanced around. "'Out,' ma'am?"

It was her turn to blink, and she, too, took a look about them. "Um...yeah. Out. Sorry, but I didn't actually mean to be here."

This seemed to make more sense to him, oddly enough, and he chuckled. "Oh, yeah. I know, right? Even after five years, sometimes I still get lost."

"Uh...okay." This guy had worked here for five years? Poor kid. After a moment of getting no other response, her smile returned, though it was terse and tight this time. "So...deck?"

"Sure. This is deck three. The mess hall's just around here and to the right." He pointed down the hallway, and she followed the direction of his finger with her eyes.

"Great, thanks. And you look great, by the way. Spot-on. Very realistic." Giving him a half-sarcastic salute, and missing the lingering puzzlement with which he regarded her retreating back, Maiya started off toward the mess hall. There was a turbolift right nearby, and she could ride it all the way down and be out of here.

"Where ya' going?"

She jumped at this sudden voice and the presence that went with it. Falling into stride with her was Q, wearing the same style of uniform but in command red. Naturally.

A sideways glower was his response, but she didn't stop moving. "I'm putting an end to your game and getting out of here before I get caught up in whatever tour or reenactment or demonstration that's about to happen, if that's all right with you."

"That might prove to be a challenge."

Here, Maiya stopped and rounded on him. "Are you really going to stop me?"

Q grinned at her. "I don't have to. C'mere." He beckoned her along and started to walk again, but she dug in her proverbial heels and stayed rooted in place.

"Nuh-uh. I'm not going anywhere else with you. You're crazy."

"That may be true. You can blame my father for that, but my lack of sanity notwithstanding, you really probably should actually follow me before you go trying to leave. Come on." Again he waved at her and resumed walking.

For a few seconds longer, Maiya stood there, looking about. One part of her brain screamed to just make a beeline for the lift, but there was an accursed sense of curiosity that eventually won out, and with an expression still sour, she followed him after all. They passed a few more people on the way to wherever he was taking her, and they all just nodded in acknowledgment. There was even a "ma'am" or two, which grated on her. They were taking their jobs entirely too seriously for her taste. "There is such a thing as _too_ in character," she muttered.

Q chuckled quietly. "Oh, wayward little soul, you are in for a surprise." His amusement was infuriating.

"I've had about enough surprises for the day, thanks. Can we just get on with this?"

"Of course. Here we are."

They had come to the mess hall, and she cocked one eyebrow at him. Without even looking back at her, he stepped into and stood in the doorway to keep it open for her. A little cautiously, and still eyeing him, she walked into the room. She expected a group of civilians getting some sort of lecture, but what she saw first was a smattering of uniformed people at tables, eating or chatting away. A bit of puzzlement mixed itself into the irritation, and she glanced back toward the door where Q just stood, smirking.

"What are we doing here?"

He didn't answer, just lifted a finger and pointed across the room. Rolling her eyes, Maiya slowly turned on heel and faced the viewport.

And then she froze, her eyes going wide as they could be. "No... No, no, no, you did not!"

Outside the enormous windows, where she expected to see the sprawling city of San Fransisco, the grounds of the Presidio, there was instead a black velvet backdrop full of bright streaks of light.

That meant...they were in space.

On the _Voyager_.

And with a sinking feeling in her gut, she could take a guess at which quadrant they were speeding through. There was only one explanation, and she put her hands to the sides of her head in despair.

"What the _hell_?!"


End file.
